Fullmetal Alchemist 2 : Motherhood
by Rydia Highwind
Summary: Roy gets Ed in trouble, and thus starts the longest nine months in either of their lives.  Eventual Roy/girl!Ed, if all goes as planned.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Fullmetal Alchemist 2 : Motherhood - Chapter 1  
**Series:** Fullmetal Alchemist (first anime)  
**Pairings:** eventual Roy/girl!Ed (someday, maybe)  
**Warnings:** Genderswap, mostly. Some transgender things, pregnancy, etc. Adult themes, I guess, but nothing explicit.  
**Summary: **Roy gets Ed in trouble, and thus starts the longest nine months in either of their lives. First anime based, post series, AU. And Hughes, because I like Hughes.  
**A/N:** There is so much backstory to this plot that I can't even begin. This chapter is a little...weighty? In some spots? Because of that, as I try to interject my backstory without being too overbearing with it. I didn't do a very good job, I don't think. SO, SORRY. Also, I fail at titles. XD

* * *

Thirty-seven days had passed since a very eventful evening in the life of one Fullmetal Alchemist.

Thirty-seven stupid, smelly, uneventful days of late autumn in Rizenbul, edging by in aching slowness. Ed was slowly going insane, smoldering here in vague annoyance and self-pity. Or, really, being completely honest, it was more like boredom. Now, it wasn't that it wasn't the best thing ever that Al had gotten his body back or that they were living back in Rizenbul with Auntie and Winry. It was simply that Ed was used to being in constant motion, always on the move. And now, forced into early retirement (or whatever), life was just...boring.

Mustang's coup d'etat had been successful. The homunculi were gone or dead, Dante was out of the picture, the government was overthrown. And Ed had ended up in the hospital, this time unable to contain the secret that had held fast for more than four years. It was a military hospital, after all, and the Fullmetal Alchemist was practically a household name by that point in time. One of the nurses had blabbed, and now the entire nation of Amestris knew Ed's secret.

The tabloids had been all over it, and even the local papers had published headlines about it: The Fullmetal Alchemist Revealed As A Woman!

The media had eaten it up. And Ed had ignored all of it, declined to comment, and continued to bind her breasts and wear shapeless clothing, even if everyone knew it was a 'cover' or whatever.

Fucking media.

And fucking _Mustang_ too.

Thirty-seven days ago, Mustang had thrown a party. It was the second party he had thrown since he had taken the office of fuhrer, but Ed had forgone the first one, as she was still recovering from a second set of particularly nasty automail surgeries. She hadn't an excuse to miss this one, but it wasn't exactly one she had wanted to miss anyway.

It had been a party to honor a man that was supposed to be dead and wasn't. A man who had a gravestone in Central Cemetery and everything-but no one had bothered mentioning to Ed that the grave was empty. That Maes Hughes had made a successful escape to Xing had been a slim to none chance. And yet, as soon as it was public news that Roy Mustang had taken the position of Fuhrer of Amestris, it wasn't a month before the man was back in Central.

And so Ed wasn't opposed to going to that party. She didn't even bind her breasts for that, since Hughes knew she was a girl anyway, and not just from the papers. He had been one of the officers to hush up everyone in that tiny hospital Ed had been in after the fifth laboratory incident, to hide her identity as the Fullmetal Alchemist. He'd taken care of everything, because at that point in time, it was safer for her to remain a boy.

Then again, it wouldn't surprise Ed if Hughes had known from the first time he'd laid eyes on her.

Mustang had seemed a bit put out that Hughes already knew Ed's secret-because Mustang had known before the entire world had, and he probably was under the illusion that he had, for a while anyway, known something the great Maes Hughes did not know.

Fucking Mustang.

Thirty-seven days later, Ed had a migraine.

She couldn't _rightly_ blame Mustang, as she hadn't seen him since his stupid little party thirty-seven days ago. But she was going to anyway. Because, honestly? It had to be his fault somehow. Didn't matter if she'd seen him or not. She was still _thinking_ about him, and fuck, that was worse somehow.

It wasn't spectacularly warm for a late autumn day in Rizenbul, but Ed was lying on the rug in front of the fireplace without a shirt on. Instead, she was only covered by the bindings firmly and tightly holding her breasts as flat as possible. Winry had had the gall to ask why she still bothered with them, even though everyone knew she was a girl now. Winry didn't understand, obviously. It wasn't even that Ed wanted everyone to think she was a man (though it had been nice while it had lasted). She just actually didn't feel comfortable with her femininity. It wasn't a part of who she, who Edward (or Edwina, if you wanted to be technical) Elric, was. And that was why she hid them.

With the recent surgery and intense soreness that lingered on top of what appeared to be yet another growth spurt, though, she had been lax with wearing them lately. But right now, they were a comforting weight around her ribs. Anything to distract her from the throbbing in her head.

She rolled onto her stomach, resting her forehead against the fuzzy rug and closing her eyes tightly. Thirty-seven days ago since the bastard colonel-fuhrer now, actually-had to go and be his stupid asshole self and mock her about the very thing she hated most about herself. He had sworn that day when he had found out that he wouldn't tell...but now that everyone knew, he was safe! Bastard!

As if he knew she was still wired incorrectly! Fuck.

It had been a long, despairing conversation with Alphonse that had finally allowed her to understand it. She had grown up firmly convinced she had been put into the wrong body, that she was meant to be a boy, and that something had just gone wrong and she'd ended up with tits instead. But then she'd developed _feelings_ for someone, and that someone wasn't a _girl_, and so she'd suddenly been faced with a number of doubts. Boys liked girls, so if she was really supposed to be a boy, then wouldn't she like girls too?

Maybe it was still the bastard's fault for being so fucking _handsome_. She hadn't noticed it at first, but she'd been eleven and nearly bleeding to death the first time she'd seen him.

But when she finally expressed these feelings to Alphonse, back when he was still made from metal and leather, he had simply thought about it in silence for a moment. "I don't think you're wired wrong, Brother," he'd said quietly. "I think maybe you're just one of those boys who likes other boys."

Alphonse, bless his heart, never tried to imply that his sister was actually female. He knew better. Ed liked to think he agreed with her too, but she wasn't sure.

The problem was that no one else saw her that way. The papers said she had impersonated a man because she was in the army, and the rumors said she'd impersonated a man because of her brother, and god only knew what else. Everyone knew she was physically a female now. But mentally, she hadn't changed at all.

Even Mustang didn't understand that.

He'd toyed with her that entire night, the bastard. Because he could. Because he wasn't her commanding officer any longer, and because she wasn't under age any longer. And she'd _let_ him because he was _Mustang_, and she'd only hit him twice the entire night for it.

Fucking asshole bastard. She hated him. She hated him with every fiber of her being, and with some of Al's too, just for good measure.

The door creaked open, and Ed whimpered quietly as the noise slid inside of her head, stabbing through her forehead like a thousand knives. For the love of Ishbala, was there no way to get a little peace and quiet in this fucking town? She was going to murder the next person who came in here, regardless of whether or not she had just spent the last five years of her life trying to put that person into a body again.

"You have another migraine?" Winry's voice asked, blissfully ignorant of the fresh wave of agony she brought to her floor ridden victim.

"I hate you," Ed retorted through gritted teeth.

Winry made that little clucking noise she does when she's annoyed. "This is the third one in four days," she commented, her voice scolding, because, you know, this was _totally_ Ed's decision to have these horrible, debilitating migraines.

"S'all the same one, probably," Ed moaned. "Will you please be quiet?"

"You need to see a doctor," Winry decided.

"You need to shut the fuck up before I murder you," Ed informed her. "I'm not moving."

"Then _I'll_ have to do the tests."

"Go die in a fire!"

She, of course, did the tests. Several thousand of them, to be exact. She was paging through one of her dad's old medical textbooks and asking Ed a thousand questions to determine whether or not she had an ulcer or something. She made Ed pee in a cup, took some blood samples, asked Ed some very personal questions, and then blessedly left her victim alone.

* * *

"...and it's definitely not scoliosis or rubella, so that's good," Winry said during breakfast the following morning. Ed was poking at her omelet sans her usual gusto, as she was still not feeling up to par. But at least she didn't have any of the eight thousand things Winry had already tested for. "So basically, you might have a brain tumor, an aneurysm in your brain, or you might just need glasses."

Ed was banking on the brain tumor, mostly because she did not want glasses.

Al's gray eyes went wide in alarm. "Brother? Oh god, you can't have a brain tumor!" he gasped, leaning over and throwing his lean arms around Ed's smaller frame.

"She doesn't have a brain tumor," Auntie informed them with a sigh. "Winry, I swear, put those books away and let Ed see a trained doctor."

Winry pouted. Al sighed and let go of Ed, giving her a worried look.

Ed stood up and threw up in the sink.

"Nausea? You didn't say anything about nausea last night!" Winry protested in annoyance. "This opens up a whole host of other possibilities!"

"I'm going back to bed," Ed returned bad-temperedly.

* * *

_The party had only been open to a few, exclusive invitees, and had therefore been small enough to fit into the outer area of the new Fuhrer's office. The furniture had been pushed over to one side of the room, centered around a small buffet table piled with food and drink. The other end was free of furniture, open for dancing._

_The lights in the room were low, lit only by one overly gaudy chandelier and a number of candles set about the room. Mustang was standing by a window, back lit by the candlelight. His silhouette was clear and striking, and the light reflected off the amber liquid in the glass he was holding. He'd had a few already-his motions were exaggerated and bit more sloppy than normal. But he wasn't faring worse than anyone else. Ed herself was already pleasantly beyond the tipsy stage, and she didn't even remember what number the one in her hand was._

_But hell, it helped quell the angry ache in her shoulder and leg. The automail would eventually stop aching so much, she knew from experience. But this soon after the second round of surgeries...well, it still hurt._

_She looked out over the dance floor. Al had abandoned her to dance with Winry, which was all right with her. Very cute, honestly, and Al had had a crush on their childhood friend for ages. It had, of course, been Winry's suggestion to dance. Al was far too shy._

_Also on the dance floor was Hughes and his wife, holding each other close and making eyes only for each other. Well, aside from the occasional glance at the sofa, where Elysia-now four years old-was dead asleep. Hughes had been back in Amestris for a few months, but that was not enough for a doting daddy like him to get his fill. Hell, Hughes could barely get through a full day at work without his wife and daughter._

_A few other couples were out on the dance floor, swaying slowly to the music. Hawkeye was wearing a stormy expression as she sipped her drink on the far end of the floor, ignoring Havoc's attempted advances. Fuery was teaching Black Hayate tricks. Breda was dancing with a giggly Sheska. Falman was in a deep discussion with Armstrong, who was, rather inexplicably, not wearing a shirt. Brosch and Ross were sharing a very strange sort of dance which involved both of them blushing and holding each other at arm's length from one another._

_And Ed...was just standing there, contemplating raiding the food table for the eighth time. She certainly didn't need any other drinks, as she was fairly uncertain of how she was standing up right then. This was why she hated parties. All she had to do was to stand around and stare at Mustang._

_...except he wasn't by the window anymore._

_"Enjoying the party, Fullmetal?"_

_Ed jumped and whirled around as the Bastard's voice came from somewhere behind her. She very nearly fell backwards from the motion, but Mustang caught her arm and kept her upright. She would have been able to keep on her own feet if she hadn't been so toasted._

_"No, it's a total drag, asshole. Stop calling me that, I'm not in the military anymore, and let go of my fucking arm," she snapped, jerking it back away from him._

_For the first time in the history of the world, the bastard actually listened to her. He let go of her arm even as she was pulling back. This, of course, caused her to tumble right over backwards, landing on her ass with a thud. The goddamn Bastard had done that _on purpose_._

_"Easy there," Mustang said easily, grinning that stupid handsome grin that she hated more than anything else in the entire world right then. He extended a hand down to help her out, but she smacked it away._

_"Go to hell, would you?" she spat, standing up on her own. "Fuck. I'm toasted. I need to go home."_

_"Locked all the doors," he replied, shrugging. "Everyone's been drinking. Won't have you all smashing your automobiles into trees and such. You'll all stay the night."_

_"The fuck I will!" Ed snarled back, unreasonably angry at this sentiment, but then the Bastard did have a way of doing that to her. "We're all going to sleep in your fucking office? Not a damn chance!"_

_"Come off it, now, Fullmetal, there's plenty of room in HQ," he went on. "I even have a private bedroom tucked away behind my office. You could sleep there if you wanted."_

_Ed felt her face flush as she realized exactly what he had just said-because surely _he_ would be sleeping there. Now, being that Ed had been posing for a male for most of her teenage years, she hadn't really had the experience with people flirting with her. She felt flustered, unsure of herself, and very suddenly angry. The Bastard had _no fucking business_ saying those things to her._

_And so she did the first thing that came to mind. She hit him. In the face. With her metal hand._

_A couple of people paused to watch the Bastard go tumbling backwards from Ed's blow, but no one was really surprised by it either._

_Mustang was fuming as he stood up, glowering at her. He grasped her upper arm and dragged her aside as a parent might do to a naughty child who was making a scene in public. Ed was humiliated and enraged, but his grip was iron. He pulled her inside the inner office and pulled the door shut behind him. She rubbed her forearm as he locked the door before turning back to her with a scowl._

_"What in the name of Ishbala do you think you're doing?" he demanded finally, turning toward her._

_"Don't you fucking treat me like a child," Ed spat, crossing her arms over her chest as she glowered right back at him. "In case you'd forgotten, I'm sixteen years old, and that's legally an adult here, remember?"_

_Mustang didn't apologize or even change his expression. She considered hitting him again, just for good measure. "What the hell did you hit me for? All I did was offer you somewhere to sleep," he scowled._

_"That was for propositioning me, asshole."_

_When he just stared at her for a long moment, Ed got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Just because she was hopelessly attracted to him didn't mean he had any interest in her. And why _would_ he have any interest? He could have any woman in Amestris. Why the hell would he pick her? He wasn't one of those men who liked other men, and so he wouldn't be interested in Ed, who, for all intents and purposes, _had_ been a male for the past five years._

_"Edward," he finally said, shaking his head. "Edward, I was not propositioning you. I was not suggesting that we _both_ sleep in the-"_

_"Okay, I get it, shut up!" she scowled, embarrassed and upset._

_The Bastard considered her, leaning up against the wall with her arms folded. And he leaned in so close that Ed could smell nothing but his cologne. "If I were propositioning you, I'd probably do something more like this," he murmured, and then, he leaned in and kissed her on the mouth._

_She didn't react for a long moment, unsure of what was happening. Just a moment ago, he had been scolding her like a naughty child, and now he was-kissing her? Where did he get off pulling shit like that? She jerked her head back after a moment and socked him again, in the jaw. The angle was bad and she hadn't done any real damage, but he still had a glint of annoyance in his eye when he looked back up at her._

_Wanting him to do it or not, that was _not_ how to win her affections._

_"The fuck is wrong with you, Mustang?" she demanded, feeling her cheeks heat up. "Is that how you get most of your dates to go out with you? You just fucking kiss them without even asking if they want you to or not?"_

_One of his eyebrows was raised slightly as he looked down at her, one hand rubbing his jaw. "All right, then," he said lowly. "If that is how you want to play. Edward, would you like me to kiss you?"_

_She really, really should have said no._

* * *

"YOU KILLED MISTER SNUGGLES!"

Ed groaned into her pillow as Al's voice shattered the very nice dream she had been having. She rolled over and sat up, finding that the symptoms of that morning had vanished for the most part. Well, that was a nice plus. Even if she'd-ugh-dreamed about the Bastard again.

Thirty-eight days now. Someday the dreams would quit. Fucking Mustang and his fucking whiskey and his fucking kisses anyway.

"HOW COULD YOU, WINRY!"

Ed pulled on a pair of pants and ran her fingers through her hair, not bothering with changing out of her nightshirt before heading toward the door. Whatever was going on out there, it had Al morbidly upset.

She found Winry and Al in Winry's bedroom. Winry was standing over her work table, where a dead rabbit was lying with its stomach cut open, and Al was sobbing rather hysterically.

"I swear, I didn't know it was Mister Snuggles, Al," Winry cried desperately. "I just caught it in the trap, and I needed a rabbit to do some testing. I'm so sorry, Al, I really am."

"YOU KILLED HIM TO DO SOME STUPID TESTING?" Al demanded.

"Goddamn it, Winry, what kind of stupid testing do you need to kill a poor rabbit for anyway?" Ed demanded from the doorway. She crossed into the room to give her brother a comforting hug, and he clung to her like a starfish in response. Ed managed a glare for Winry.

The girl _did_ look like the guilt was eating at her, at least. She also looked a bit worried and confused, and she took another look at the rabbit on the table.

"Just...something I thought might be causing your symptoms," she replied finally, evasively.

Ed thought about what the hell sort of tests a doctor would have to run on a rabbit to get the results for. Surely there was some other way she could have done this? What kind of a test-

The answer came to her rather suddenly, and her heart started beating a little faster. Thirty-eight days...she didn't know much about it, but it would make a certain amount of sense. The length of time seemed to be about right, didn't it? But surely not-the test was negative-but the rabbit was dead...

"And how did the test turn out?" Ed asked, voice low.

Winry gave her a tiny, apologetic smile. "Positive," she replied. "Congratulations."

"Oh, fuck," Ed whispered.

Al pulled back from Ed just a touch, looking at her with tear filled eyes. "What? What's going on?" he asked. "Brother, what's wrong? What do you have?"

"Uh," Ed replied, rubbing the back of her head.

Winry looked at Ed, and then she looked at Al. "Um, Ed's...Ed's pregnant, Al," she finally said.

Ed didn't stick around. A sudden, out of nowhere wave of nausea encompassed her, and she rushed from the room with a hand clamped over her mouth. She could hear Al following her out, but she didn't stop. She rushed into the bathroom and gagged into the toilet.

Al sweetly held his sister's hair back as she was sick, and then wet down a washcloth to wash down her face. "Brother?" he said quietly as he rubbed her back. "Brother? Are you okay?"

Ed was decidedly _not_ okay. She had fucked up once, gotten drunk and not thought about consequences, and now she was paying for that. In the worst possible way. There was no way she could see this through, no way she was going through all of this by herself. Or at all! No! There had to be a way out of this. And of course there _were_ options regarding this that she could go through, so that she'd never have to tell the Bastard or anyone else, and no one but Al and Winry had to know, and...

"I'm just great, Al," Ed muttered, wiping her mouth with a metal fist. "Just fucking _perfect_."

"Brother, who did you-I mean, who is-I mean-"

God, this was infuriating. Here she was, pregnant and scared and alone, and none of her friends even knew who the father of the baby was. She felt somewhat hysterical as she rubbed her hair back out of her eyes.

"No one. This isn't happening," Ed replied. "This isn't real, it isn't."

"Brother?" Al's voice was quiet. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Ed didn't say anything for a long moment, but she did know that. And she appreciated it. But right now, right in this moment, she wasn't ready to tell him yet. She wasn't ready to deal with his expressions, with his admonitions, his surprise at the revelation of who his big sister had slept with to get into this situation. She wasn't ready for it.

"Some other time," Ed replied, and she moved away from her brother. She stood up and rinsed her mouth, getting out her toothbrush as she did. "But yeah, Al, I know."

Al nodded and watched her brush her teeth and flush the toilet. She looked in the mirror, took in her bedraggled appearance. It was past noon and she wasn't dressed yet, hadn't brushed out her hair. She was pale, rather overly so, and she was getting dark circles under her eyes. Lovely.

She was also hungry. Overwhelmingly so.

"I'm starving to death," she announced.

Al smiled a bit at this declaration. Ed supposed this was sounding more usual. Then again, she hadn't really eaten breakfast, and last night, her migraine had been so bad that she hadn't been much in the mood for eating. She put her hair into a makeshift ponytail and set out for the kitchen, Al at her heels.

Auntie was in the workroom with Winry, and Ed caught a glance from her as she passed the doorway. Great. Winry had told, hadn't she? Or, hell. Maybe it had been Auntie's idea to start with. Either way, Ed decided that she hated them both at that very moment. She made a face in their general direction.

She made a sandwich and piled it high with anything she could find in the icebox. Al trailed along behind her, sitting at the kitchen table as Ed finished preparing her sandwich. There was a lot left unsaid at that table, because there wasn't a lot _to _say. Ed wasn't willing to talk about it, not when she had no idea what to do, and Al probably knew better than to ask. He was content to be Ed's silent support.

There was a lot to consider. If Ed decided to end this, she was going to have to deal with a good amount of guilt from it, not to mention that Al and Winry already knew. She wasn't sure she could justify just getting rid of it, even if she couldn't offer much. There was, she supposed, always adoption.

Because if there was one thing Edward Elric was not, it was maternal. She would make the world's shittiest mother, hands down, and she'd certainly never _intended_ to have children. Now granted, she wasn't even seventeen, and she had plenty of time to think about it, but still. For all intents and purposes, she wasn't even a girl, why should she even think about being a mother?

Keeping it was out of the question. She didn't even have a home. They were staying with the Rockbells temporarily, until they figured out what to do. Auntie said they could stick around as long as they needed to, and Al was certainly content to stay (probably because of his massive crush on Winry). Ed, on the other hand, felt guilty for sapping the Rockbells' resources most of the time, even though they were certainly not hurting for money. But she had very little money left of her own and no job or prospects of one. How could she possibly raise a baby?

She couldn't, and that was final.

And then there was the thought of telling the Bastard, which was another story entirely.

"Hm," said Al thoughtfully, giving his sister a much welcome distraction. "I didn't even know you were seeing anyone like that, Brother."

Ed colored just slightly and glared at her half-eaten sandwich. "I'm not," she admitted.

He gave her a worried and slightly suspicious look, eyebrows knit in worry and gray eyes wide. "Did somebody hurt you, Brother?" he asked lowly.

"No, no! I just-it wasn't like that, Al," Ed assured him quickly. "I was-I mean, I had been drinking a bit, wasn't thinking clearly, you know. And I made a bad decision, and that was the only time it has ever happened, and ever _will_ happen probably. Ugh."

He looked rather relieved at the thought and then snatched a tomato from her plate. She let him, but only because he was Al, and Al could get away with that sort of thing.

Ed sighed, leaning her forehead against her palm and her elbow on the tabletop. "What the hell am I gonna do, Al?" she asked quietly.

"Brother," and Al's voice was a bit of an admonishment. "You don't have to worry so much, you know. You have a lot of people who care about you and will look out for you. Not just me and Winry and Auntie, either. Brother, you're on a first name basis with the Fuhrer!"

Ed winced. "He is _not_ finding out about this," she stated flatly.

Al deflated just a little, but frowned. "And just why not?" he demanded. "This doesn't _have_ to be such a bad thing, you know. Most people are _happy_ when they receive news like this!"

"I'm sixteen, I'm not married, I don't even have a boyfriend, and up until about six months ago, everyone in the world thought I was a boy," Ed pointed out dryly. "I do not want kids. I have never wanted kids. And I sure as hell don't want one coming out from between my legs. Excuse me for not jumping for joy here."

"The Fuhrer won't judge you," Al put in mildly. "You know he won't. He didn't judge you when he found out what we did to Mom. He'd probably even let you stay with him for a while if you wanted."

"I don't want," Ed retorted hotly, pushing her plate away. She wasn't hungry anymore. She got up and headed over to the door. "I'm going for a walk."

* * *

Forty-four days.

Ed really should have stopped counting. The dreams _had_ changed, thank god, but they weren't any better. No, now they had babies in them. Babies that looked exactly like Roy Mustang, babies that sassed at her even though they shouldn't have known how to talk. She didn't sleep much at all.

The morning of the forty-third day, they'd received a call from Dublith. Izumi, the Elric siblings' old mentor, had taken ill once more, and the doctor wasn't all that optimistic.

Because, you know, this was all Ed needed in her life-a little bit more stress.

She was leaning her head against the window of the train, ignoring the little bumps and jostles of the tracks. She hoped and prayed rather fervently that the impending migraine would wait until they were in Dublith to manifest itself completely, because she was going to be in more agony than normal if it hit her on the train.

Al tucked a blanket around her shoulders gently, and she smiled gratefully at him. Apparently, this was a part of something called 'morning sickness,' though it was a complete misnomer. There was nothing morning about it.

They'd got on the train the night before with the intention of sleeping on the train, and Al had slept without any trouble whatsoever. It was Ed, who had a propensity to be able to sleep wherever she happened to lie down, who had stayed awake all night, glaring out the window at empty space. When she'd finally fallen asleep...well, that was where those dreams came in. Fucking Mustang. He even ruined her sleep.

"Next stop: Dublith! We'll be coming into the station in ten minutes time. I repeat, next stop: Dublith!"

The attendant's voice made Ed wince, but at least she'd be off the train soon. Not that she'd be able to sleep, not with Master so ill that they thought to call her old apprentices in. Ed swallowed as she sat up a bit, very aware of the fact that she was about to relive one of her worst nightmares. She still remembered very clearly being at her mother's bedside as she slowly faded away. Ed couldn't bear to lose her second mother to the same thing that took her first.

"Did you sleep well, Brother?" Al asked, grabbing their suitcases from underneath the seats.

Ed gave her brother a cynical look. "Oh yes, just great, thanks," she groaned, rubbing the back of her neck. "Never slept better than I did last night, that's for sure."

He gave her a somewhat annoyed look. "Well, I know it's not the best situation, but I'm _trying_ to be optimistic," he replied quietly. "I'm really worried about Master. Do you think she's...?"

"She'll be fine, Al," Ed responded quickly. "She's-she's Master. She can't-you know."

"Then why are we here, Brother?" Al asked softly.

Ed didn't really have a response for that. She began folding up the blanket Al had put over her, fiddling with it nervously even as the train started slowing down to approach the station. It was obvious that they were here in case Izumi did pass away soon, and Al was smart. He understood.

With a sigh, she started braiding her hair over again. "Yeah, I know...I just don't totally believe it somehow," she admitted. "I mean...it's Master. She can't...you know."

"I keep thinking about Mom," Al murmured, looking out the window.

"...me too," Ed replied, closing her eyes.

* * *

Mason had met the two of them at the train station with an overenthusiastic wave and a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. He greeted them in his typical ways, aggravating Ed by commenting on her lack of height and exciting Al with talk of the local cat population. They turned down the wrong street to go to the butcher shop where Izumi and Sig kept shop, but it was fairly obvious where they were heading: the hospital.

They were dropped off at the door with instructions on how to get to their master's room before Mason apologized that he needed to be back to work and waved goodbye.

Izumi's room was small and painted a quiet pastel blue. Her bed was positioned so that she could look out the window, and the view was of the river just beyond the city limits outside Dublith. The bed itself was made up in white sheets and a blue blanket, and there was a chair on either side of the bed. Sig was dwarfing one of the chairs on the far side of the room from the door, and Izumi of course was in bed.

She was very pale, and she had dropped a lot of weight since the last time Ed had seen her. Her hair, still in dreadlocks, was no longer pulled back away from her face and neck, but down and spread across the pillows. Her breathing was ragged and slow, and Ed could hear them rattle from across the room. Even so, she was speaking softly to her husband and smiling for him.

"Master?" Al called tentatively, a step ahead of Ed and eager to be at his foster mother's side.

"Alphonse," Izumi called, turning toward her former apprentices. Her smile was not there for them. "Edward. Have you left the military yet, I do hope?"

"We got what we set out to do," Ed replied quietly, stepping in after her brother. "We don't have a reason to be in the military anymore. I gave up my watch as soon as I got out of the hospital."

"Good. Sit down, Ed, before you fall down," Izumi said in a voice that booked no argument.

Ed immediately took the seat across the bed from where Sig was seated. "Yes, ma'am," she replied meekly.

Izumi coughed once then, and the motion racked her entire frame. Ed winced and Al made a tiny sound of distress, refusing to look at her. It was just a reminder of what they were losing, after all.

"You know why I had Mason call you, right?" Izumi asked them quietly, and Ed pressed her lips together as Al clenched his hands into fists. "It's because the doctor here doesn't think I'll be around much longer. I wanted to see you two again before I-"

"Don't say that, Master!" Al protested.

"We can't run from the truth, Alphonse," Izumi told him gently. "I'm only human. I don't know when I'll die. I only know what the doctor here tells me. He thinks it will be sooner rather than later, so I'm simply taking the actions necessary to prepare for such an outcome."

Everyone went silent for that. The clock ticked slowly, eternally, and Ed was suddenly faced with a realization. Izumi was like a mother to her; she had adopted both Ed and Al into her life as far more than simply her apprentices. It was only because her mother had passed away, Ed realized, that Izumi had adopted them in the first place.

Ed needed some advice from someone who had been in her situation before. Someone who knew something about babies and children and pregnancy and the like. And since she couldn't ask her mother...

"Master," she said, and very suddenly. Al jumped, and Sig looked up.

"Yes, Ed?"

"I-I want to talk to you. About something." She glanced around the room at the others. "Alone."

Sig stood up obediently, but Al paused for a long moment before following Sig out the door. He glanced at Ed with a strange expression on his face, part worried, part betrayed. Ed prayed that Al wouldn't feel too much like he was being left out.

When they were alone, Ed reached out then and laid her flesh hand over Izumi's. "I guess I don't understand, Master," she said softly, "how you can be so content with this. Don't you want to live?"

"I don't want to die, that is true," Izumi answered quietly, looking over at Ed. "But I guess I'm not sure I want to live either. Don't get me wrong, Ed. I'm in a good place right now. I have Sig and Mason and the store...and you and Al have grown up so well. You don't need me anymore, and that's all right. Look, I will have to die someday. We all will. I'm just simply at peace with the fact that my someday isn't very far away."

"That's untrue," Ed insisted. "The part about us not needing you. I need you-more than ever right now." She realized her hand was shaking, and Izumi must have too, because she turned her hand over so she could hold Ed's hand.

"Edward, what happened?" Izumi asked, her voice quiet and gentle. A mother's voice.

Ed shook her head, finding that for the first time since Winry had done that stupid test and it had come back positive, she wanted to cry. Ed didn't cry for many things, but suddenly, this seemed important enough. "I did something really stupid, Master," she whispered. "I-well, I'm pregnant."

Silence reigned for a long moment, but Izumi's hand never left Ed's.

"How did it happen?" is all that Izumi asks.

"I fucked up. I. I was drunk, and it was at this party, and everyone was drinking, and it just sort of happened, and I just let him, and I went along with it," Ed gasps out in one long breath. It felt strangely good to finally talk about it. "I don't think it occurred to either of us to...to use protection."

Izumi was very quietly, only letting out a long breath as she contemplated what Ed had to say. "All right," she finally said thoughtfully. "Have you told the father yet?"

Ed shook her head miserably. The reasons for not telling him were outweighing the reasons she ought to by about a million to one at the moment, but she wasn't sure how she could explain that. Oh, what a scandal it would be if word got out that the Fullmetal Alchemist was pregnant with the Fuhrer's child! It was bad enough that she was fourteen years his junior, but they were both rather famous too.

"I can't tell him," Ed stated flatly.

"I think he deserves to know, Ed," Izumi replied, her voice holding just a touch of warning.

Ed winced. "I don't know if he does or not, I just know that if this gets out, it'll be...bad," she replied. "He's kind of...well, you know _I'm_ kind of famous. It's like that, sort of. It'll be really bad for him. He's sort of...older than I am."

A single black eyebrow raised. "Older? Is he married?"

"What do you think I am!" Ed demanded, suddenly annoyed as she jerked her hand back. "No! He's not married! I'm not a tramp, for god's sake."

Izumi was giving her a quizzical look. "Then why will it be so bad?"

"Because...well, he might be in a position of...some power...and...oh, hell with it. The Fuhrer. I slept with the fucking bastard Fuhrer." Ed hid her face in her hands in mortification.

"Oh, Edward."

She heard a heavy sigh from Izumi and the sound of fabric rustling before she felt gentle hands on her shoulders. She raised her head slightly just before her master embraced her completely. She blinked in surprise-Izumi tended to teach her children with tough love-but didn't pull back. Instead, she leaned into her master's arms and rested her forehead against Izumi's shoulder.

"I don't know what to do, Master," she finally managed. "I can't just get rid of it and pretend it never happened, but I can't keep it either. I can't take care of it. I can't even take care of myself! I'm living with Auntie and Winry because I don't have a way to make any money anymore. I'm not even seventeen years old! How am I supposed to do this?"

"With help," Master said quietly, gently. "There's a room in my house that I've always wanted to be a nursery. Maybe I'll have my chance yet, hm? I think I'll make a good grandmother." Her hands smoothed through Ed's hair, slowly and soothingly.

Ed, however much she wanted to be, was not mollified by this response. She could not help but remember the entire reason they were here in Dublith in the first place. She let out a shuddering little breath, wishing there was some way that she could fix this.

"Master...I...I appreciate the offer, but I can't-not while...while you're..." She couldn't even bring herself to say it.

Izumi clucked once and pulled back slightly. "You're right, of course," she mused, leaning back against the pillows but holding Ed's hand resolutely. "Edward Elric, you cannot be content to simply stand back and let a woman die in peace, can you? I suppose I haven't a choice anymore."

Ed stared at her, wondering how one could speak so glibly about her own impending doom.

"I suppose I'll just have to get over it and come home, won't I?"

"M-master, I don't think-"

Izumi hushed her with a finger against her own lips. "What those doctors don't tell you is the most important part. You've got to have fight in you, you know?" she remarked. "With my kind of ailment, anyway, it's all about the drive to live. I was tired, Ed. That's why I had Mason call you. But here you come, weaving life all over again, and I'm all caught up in it. You really are something else, you know that?"

Ed wasn't really quite sure she knew how to believe what she was hearing. Master was content to magically start 'fighting' her illness again and that was going to bring her back from the brink of death? And now, because Ed was caught in some sort of stupid situation because of a stupid bastard back in Central, she was 'something else?'

"I don't get you at all," Ed remarked glumly.

And Izumi laughed. "No, I suppose you don't," she answered. "It's just...life is beautiful. The existence of life is one of the biggest mysteries of science, because there's no logical reason we should exist. Where did we start? Where will we end? No one can answer those questions. In the meantime, here we are, creating and nourishing and sustaining life because that's what we're here for. Never mind the _how_ it happened or _why_ it happened. Forget for a moment what you're going to do. It's what you've already _done_ that is amazing, Ed. You've managed to create one of the biggest mysteries in science, and completely on accident.

"And you, as an alchemist and someone who has walked down paths no one should ever tread, you understand it even better than most, don't you? Life is something to be treasured, to be cherished. It's a _gift_, Ed. Why did you try to transmute your mother? Why did you transmute your brother's soul to a suit of armor?"

Ed looked directly at Izumi. "Because I couldn't bear for them to leave," she whispered.

"Because no one in the world was exactly like them," Izumi continued. She lifted a hand and reached over, rolling to her side so that she could press her fingertips against the still flat plane of Ed's stomach. "Or like this one. This is how you started out too, you know."

Considering this, Ed thought of her mother-her real one, the one who had birthed her and her brother. She had fallen into her mother's footsteps rather perfectly, she realized with a bit of chagrin. Trisha Elric had never married, after all. Ed didn't really know the circumstances very well, but Auntie had said a few things that made her put the puzzle pieces together. It seemed that Trisha had been estranged from her family when she had first gotten pregnant. Hohenheim had, at least, taken responsibility and gave her a house and a son before disappearing.

Was that Ed's lot in life, too? To stand by the window and wait for change?

And she thought for the very first time about this thing growing in her as more than just a parasite trying to make her life miserable-she thought of it as a baby. A baby who, like she and Al had, would grow up loving its mother unconditionally and irrevocably.

But she wouldn't take her mother's role, oh no. She would not sit by idly, waiting for things to get better. She was Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, and she did not wait for anything. If things weren't going to get better, then she'd damn well have to make them better.

And really, she didn't have it so bad. She still had Al and Winry and Auntie and Master, after all.

She looked down at her stomach, hidden beneath the folds of her shirt, where Izumi's warm fingertips still rested, and she reached down, putting her hand over the top of her master's.

"I don't have a whole lot to offer you right now," she said softly, still looking down, "but I'll work to change that, okay? I'll make sure you have everything you need...and deserve. That's my job, you know. I'm your mom, after all. That's what moms do."

* * *

Just so you know, the "you killed mister snuggles" line was the entire reason I decided to write this fic. Very important.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Fullmetal Alchemist 2 : Motherhood - Chapter 2  
**Series:** Fullmetal Alchemist (first anime)  
**Pairings:** eventual Roy/girl!Ed (someday, maybe)  
**Warnings:** Genderswap, mostly. Some transgender things, pregnancy, etc. Adult themes, I guess, but nothing explicit.  
**Summary: **Roy gets Ed in trouble, and thus starts the longest nine months in either of their lives. First anime based, post series, AU. And Hughes, because I like Hughes.**  
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* * *

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On day fifty-nine tragedy struck.

The doctor had been amazed at Izumi's sudden resilience, and while her condition hadn't necessarily improved, he determined there was little more he could do to help her and sent her home. The last Ed had seen her, she was sitting in what Ed and Al dubbed as the Commander's Chair in the sitting room (mostly because she sat in it and gave orders most of the time), commanding Sig to paint Ed and Al's old bedroom.

The tragedy in question, however, had nothing to do with Izumi or Sig or Ed and Al's old bedroom (although Sig did appear to be color blind, so the bedroom may have been its own tragedy). It involved instead Ed's favorite pair of pants.

"They won't button," she said to her reflection in the mirror in her room back in Rizenbul.

This was it. The beginning of the end.

The tiny bulge of her stomach was barely perceptible, and completely invisible if you hadn't known Ed beforehand. But the area of her stomach between her hips had always sagged inwards just slightly. Now, it was beginning to do the opposite and press outwards.

Well, the pants were an easy problem to fix. All it would take was a little extra fabric and a hand clap, and they'd be good as new. Except she didn't just randomly keep fabric around to match her pants, so that was going to have to wait. She found a different pair of pants to wear instead and glowered at the bump.

She also glowered at the bandages encircling her chest. She'd never been terribly well endowed (and thank the maker for that), but she'd gone up at least one size in the past fifty-nine days. Now, no matter how tight she pulled the bindings, there was always something there, a little bump of something. It pissed her off to no end.

Fucking Mustang. This was all his stupid fault.

And not to mention that it hurt like hell. Pretty soon she wouldn't be able to wear the bindings anymore, but she supposed it didn't matter, since in a few months, she wouldn't be able to hide her stomach either.

She put on a baggy long sleeve shirt and padded barefoot down the stairs. Al had already eaten all of the muffins, as it turned out, the sneaky little bastard that he was, so Ed was stuck with toast and an apple. Pretty lame, but knowing her luck lately, she'd just be losing it all in the sink later on anyway.

Things had been pretty slow since they'd returned from Dublith. Ed still hadn't bothered letting anyone know who the father was, but something Izumi had told her was making her wonder if she should. She knew that she morally ought to, sure, because the Bastard deserved to know he had finally managed to get someone in trouble.

But at the same time, the Bastard was also the most important person in the country. He was the glue holding the crippled nation together at this point. Should any dirt come up on him, it could put his position in jeopardy. And Ed supposed that getting a girl fourteen years younger that he was in trouble would probably count as dirt. She didn't have to tell everyone else that Mustang was the father, but still. If it got out at all, it could be bad.

Which meant only one thing: if she was going to tell him, she had to do it before she was showing. And judging from the fact that her pants didn't button today, she didn't have a whole lot of time left.

Tossing the apple core in the trash, she headed over to the phone and dialed the operator, who patched her through to the train station. The nice part about living with Auntie in the shop was that she owned one of the few places in Rizenbul with a working telephone. She got the times for the trains out to Central just as Al wandered into the kitchen, Den scampering on his heels.

"What are you calling the train station for, Brother?" Al asked, grabbing a banana off the counter, even though he had eaten like eight million muffins that morning.

"I'm going to Central," Ed stated with a tiny shrug. "I suppose I ought to tell the father."

For some reason, this prospect-and even more so now that she'd said it out loud-was absolutely terrifying. She had no idea how he was going to take it, and, for the playboy reputation the Bastard had, he didn't seem to have any other children. Or maybe he just didn't know about them either.

Al was giving her an odd look as he solemnly contemplated his banana. "Do I get to find out who it is yet?" he asked, sounding a bit plaintive.

Ed swallowed as she settled down in a chair by the table. "Promise you won't think less of me?"

"Of course I won't, Brother!"

"Well, it's just that...he's just...it's Mustang." Ed buried her face in her hands, feeling her cheeks heat up.

"Oh. ..._oh_. Brother."

Well, it was a better reaction than she'd been hoping for.

When she looked through her fingers at her brother, however, she found there was a murderous look in his gray eyes. "I'm going with you," he announced. "I have to punch him in the face."

"At least we're on the same page here, though I had planned to kick him in the balls," Ed replied, flexing her metal toes.

* * *

Returning to Central was humiliating, awkward, and annoying.

Ed had no desire to be there, especially in Central HQ, standing at the entrance and arguing with the front desk clerk over whether or not she should be admitted.

"I'm Edward fucking Elric. The Fullmetal Alchemist! Let me inside!" she growled for what had to be the ninth time. Her hands were clenched into fists, slammed onto the counter top in front of the receptionist.

"Right, sure you are," the receptionist yawned. "Where's your watch?"

"I turned it in when I left the military," Ed managed through grated teeth. "God, don't you fucking read the papers or anything?"

The man behind the desk rolled his eyes. "The papers also say that the Fullmetal Alchemist is actually a woman," he commented, giving Ed a once over that made her cheeks heat up. It also made her want to punch the damn guard in the eye, but she had a feeling that wasn't going to help her case.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Ed groaned. She was of course bound up like normal, but apparently the illusion was better than she had given herself credit for.

"This isn't getting us anywhere, Brother," Al murmured, placing a restraining hand on her arm.

It really wasn't. Ed didn't have the time or patience to stand outside of HQ, arguing with the military personnel guarding the front entrance. She was going to lose the courage she had built up to tell the Bastard if they didn't get inside within the next ten minutes.

Just as she pulled back, ready to march away from the desk in some contempt, though, her salvation happened to wander by.

"Edward? Alphonse?"

It was Colonel Hawkeye, striding up the front corridor with two bags of carry out in her hands. Well, it was about lunch time, Ed realized. She'd been a bit too nervous to eat.

"Colonel! This stupid bastard won't let us in! I need to talk to Mustang about something," Ed insisted, greeting the colonel with a wave of her hand.

"He doesn't believe we're actually the Elric brothers," Al put in with a shrug.

Hawkeye cast the poor man a glance. He was now rather cowering, realizing that he had made a very large error. "Thank you, Lieutenant, but these two are allowed in here whenever they wish," she said stoically. "I appreciate your hard work and dedication, however."

"T-thank you, ma'am," the man responded, saluting her frantically.

Ed flicked him off as she walked by.

"I was just getting some carry out for the Fuhrer," Hawkeye commented as she lead them down a long corridor. The Bastard's office was on the ground level, but about as far from the entrance as humanly possible. Ed supposed she understood the logic behind that, but it was still aggravating.

Ed was silently observing the building, noticing the little changes that had come into effect since Mustang had taken the office of Fuhrer. _More female staff_, she decided with some contempt. She was somewhat surprised that Hawkeye wasn't wearing a miniskirt.

"Is that a ring on your finger, Colonel?" Al asked suddenly, and Ed turned her attention back to Hawkeye. Indeed, if she squinted, she noticed a diamond on the fourth finger of Hawkeye's right hand.

Hawkeye actually blushed at that, and then Ed had seen everything there was to see. She couldn't figure out who Hawkeye could have been seeing, though. She had so flatly rejected everyone's advances at the last party they'd been at, though many had tried, and she hadn't danced with anyone.

"Er, yes," she admitted, smiling almost coyly. "The Fuhrer finally proposed last week."

Ed tripped over her own foot, and Al grabbed her arm to keep her upright. "I'm gonna use the restroom a minute," she said in a voice that was surprisingly calm, and then disappeared into the men's room before Hawkeye could even react.

The unsettled feeling in her stomach grew tenfold as she locked herself in a stall. Her skin flushed and she dropped to her knees, ready for the inevitable.

Mustang had proposed to Hawkeye.

That meant Mustang must have been dating Hawkeye before that point.

Edward threw up, hard.

When she was finished, she took a moment to wash her face and spit into the sink. She was going to fucking rip the Bastard apart when she got to that damn office. Seriously.

Hawkeye and Alphonse were waiting for her when she exited the bathroom, Al's eyes big with concern, and Hawkeye's tinted with a bit of impatience. She had no idea. No fucking idea that Mustang had cheated on her. Ed felt very compelled to tell her, but she also knew better than to try.

Denny Brosch and Maria Ross, acting as guards outside the Fuhrer's office, stepped aside to allow the trio to enter. And there was the Bastard, handsome and annoying as ever, facing an impressive stack of paperwork. He glanced up when they entered, first looking pleased and then surprised as his eyes found Ed and Al.

"Well, well, Edward. Alphonse. What a surprise," he commented, putting down his pen and raising his eyebrows. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"I simply came to deliver your lunch, sir," Hawkeye said professionally, handing him one of the bags. "No onion, no tomato, just the way you prefer it. I found these two being denied at the front desk."

Ed bit her lip. Hawkeye wasn't supposed to be in the room when she told her secret.

It was Al who saved the day, however. "Uh, Colonel! Is there anyway you could take me-I, uh, I wanted to see that new section they added down by the cafeteria," he said quickly. Ed wanted to hug him.

Hawkeye glanced at the Bastard, who shrugged just slightly, and then she nodded. Ed could tell she had planned to stay and eat lunch with the Bastard, but that would have to wait. It was obvious too all four of them that Al was simply trying to give Ed some space so that she could talk to the Bastard, but that was all right. Hawkeye still would have absolutely no idea on the topic of conversation.

After they had disappeared out the door, Ed began pacing in front of the desk. She was angry and upset and scared out of her fucking mind.

"You two are getting married, hm?" she asked lowly.

"We are," the Bastard confirmed calmly. As if, you know, he hadn't cheated on Hawkeye two months earlier. "We were thinking next spring. You and your brother are of course invited."

That'd be a great ordeal, to show up at the Bastard's wedding, six months pregnant with the groom's child.

"You're a filthy bastard," she finally spat, the anger (as usual) winning out.

The Bastard sighed. "Is this about the incident at the party? Because really, I'd expected you to be more mature about it," he said calmly.

Ed stopped where she was, fuming. "Mature, hm? I'm not the one who fucking cheated on someone!"

"We were-it was an off time," Mustang commented, one hand gesturing absently. "I agree, it wasn't the right thing to do. But why are you so upset about it? Surely you didn't expect anything to come of it?"

The words stung, and deeply. She _had_ somehow hoped that there would be a chance to the two of them, she finally admitted to herself. But now there definitely wouldn't be, and the fact that he had just dismissed it like that made it obvious that she really had never had a chance.

"No," she replied lowly, glaring at him. "No, I think I'd know you better than that by now."

"Then I suggest we forget that evening ever happened," the Bastard continued conversationally.

Ed's hands hit the desk firmly, and she leaned in, glaring at him. "I would love to forget about it, Mustang, but I can't," she growled out. "It's a little more complicated than that."

One black eyebrow raised. "As usual, Edward, your flare for the dramatics is really quite stunning," he said, as easily as if he was talking about the weather. "Why, pray tell, is it more complicated than that?"

"Because I'm pregnant," Ed stated.

Later on, she would reflect that this was probably the first time in her life she had ever seen the Bastard speechless, and he was also very suddenly a few shades paler than normal. If it wasn't such a somber occasion on her half too, she would have been amused by this.

"You're sure?" was all Mustang had to say.

"Yes! Fuck, yes, I'm sure!" Ed growled, throwing her hands in the air. "The rabbit is fucking _dead_, and its name was Mister Snuggles, and Al will tell you all about the injustice of its death, if you'd care to ask him! Do you think I'd march all the way to Central HQ if I wasn't sure? For the love of god, Mustang!"

The Bastard got really quiet then and his eyes distant as he contemplated this new information. His face clearly told Ed that he was about as unhappy about the news as she was, but really, why wouldn't he be? How could this possibly be _good_ news for him? He had a fiancée and a country to worry about already, and now, on top of that, an illegitimate child on its way with a barely of age former subordinate.

"Look," Ed put in when it became evident that the Bastard wasn't saying anything. "Look, I'm not asking you to do anything about it, all right? I won't even-tell anyone it's yours. There's only two other people who know, and they aren't telling. I just thought you should know, that's all."

She felt suddenly very self conscious then, crossing her arms over her stomach. The Bastard still wasn't saying anything, and that was making her feel somehow like she ought to apologize. You know, like it was her fault. She wasn't denying the responsibility for her part of the deal, but he was just as much at fault as she was. And she didn't apologize to the Bastard for anything. She never had, and she never would.

But still, in a way, this was much worse for Mustang than it was for her. Mustang was supposed to be getting married, and his bride-to-be had no idea of his illicit affair. He was in a very public position, and if word of this got out, it would be messy. All Ed had to worry about was nosy neighbors, dirty looks, and gossip. And migraines. She was fast approaching yet another one of the stupid things.

"What are you going to do?" Mustang asked.

"Me? I'm presuming I'm going to get really fat, cry a lot, and then pop the damn thing out," Ed replied with a shrug. "I'll give it up for adoption. I'm hardly in any position to-"

The doors burst open with a loud clatter, and an overly enthusiastic Maes Hughes strode into the office. "Roy! You'll never believe what I have to show you! Ah, hello, Ed! I heard you were in town. How long are you staying?"

The Bastard was scowling, hands over his eyes, and Ed shifted from foot to foot uneasily. So much for having a real conversation. "Not long," she decided. If she found Al and they hurried a bit, they could make it back to the train station to get back on an eastbound train that evening. She wasn't in the mood to deal with Hughes, and she certainly never wanted to see the Bastard again.

"Where are you staying while you're in town, Fullmetal?" the Bastard asked.

"Surely you can stick around a bit longer to see pictures of my lovely daughter, can't you?" Hughes put in.

Ed did not want to hear about _anyone's_ kids. Not for the next seven months or so. "We're not staying at all," she stated firmly. "In fact, I was just leaving. We need to make the last train out tonight. Sorry, Mr. Hughes. Maybe next time, all right?"

"You're not staying at all?" Mustang asked, looking a touch surprised.

Rubbing her forehead, Ed shook her head. It was going to be a shitty trip home with this growing headache.

"Are you all right, Ed?" Hughes put in, touching Ed's arm carefully. "You look a bit pale."

"Forget it," she growled, pulling her arm away from him. She fought a wince as the motion caused a wave of agony in her head. "I'm fine."

Mustang was already on his feet somehow. "No, I think he's right, Edward," he said cautiously. The Bastard wouldn't have cared if he hadn't known Ed's little secret. He took her arm a bit more forcefully than Hughes had and lead her over to the sofa. "Why don't you sit down."

"I'm _fine_! Let go of me, you bastard!" Ed protested, glowering at him. She then, of course, managed to trip over the carpet and stumble, which put Hughes at her other arm. She was trapped. "You're making a big deal out of nothing! I just have a headache!"

"Have you seen the doctor at all lately, Fullmetal?" the Bastard asked, his voice clipped slightly.

So _that_ was what this was about? She wanted to punch him in the face and remind him not to talk about this in front of Hughes, but she knew damn well that if there was anyone Mustang was telling, it was Hughes.

"Not really, no, just Winry," Ed admitted.

"Is something going on?" Hughes asked lowly, glancing between Ed and Mustang.

"No," stated Ed, at the same time as the Bastard said, "She's expecting."

There was a touch of silence then, as Hughes considered the situation carefully. In this time, Ed pointedly stared at the carpet, trying hard not to blush. And then Hughes spoke up. "Ah, yes," he murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I remember Gracia had terrible morning sickness when we first found out she was pregnant. Can be a real downer, can't it? Luckily, it goes away after the first trimester."

That was _not_ the response Ed had been expecting. She glanced up at him, blinking in surprise. She _knew_ that, of course-Winry had been pummeling her with information about it for the past few weeks. Which she wasn't complaining about, honestly, because she knew next to nothing about it. But she'd never expected Hughes to be so supportive and, well, understanding. He wasn't being judgmental in the slightest.

But then, this was Hughes they were talking about. And Ed suddenly realized why the Bastard had decided to tell him about what was going on. There would be no one more supportive.

Ed touched her forehead lightly with two metal fingers. "Did she get migraines too?" she asked.

"No migraines, no," Hughes responded, shaking his head slowly. "Just the nausea. Not much experience with the headaches. How far along are you?"

"Two months," she responded, looking away. She wasn't sure how much she was allowed to say on this matter, not entirely. Normally, she wouldn't care about the Bastard's wishes, but she was fairly sure he'd tell Hughes anyway, and she figured she'd let him tell the other on his own terms.

Hughes nodded, still rubbing his beard. "Definitely need to see the doctor," he mused. "Roy? You know anyone discreet around here?"

"Yes," Mustang replied. "There's a physician near my house, Dr. Stanley. He'll forget a name and face for an extra fee. I'll cover it, just tell him I sent you. Hughes, do you think you could bring her? Alphonse too, presumably-they can stay with me for the evening."

"Oh, come on, don't I get a say in this? I have these headaches all the damn time! It's not a big deal!" Ed protested defiantly, glaring at each of them in turn. "I don't need to see any damn doctor. And I don't want to stay at your stupid house overnight!"

"This isn't just about you anymore, you know, Ed," Hughes remarked thoughtfully. "Where are you heading to, Roy?"

"There's someone I need to talk to," the Bastard said quietly, standing up and heading for the door. "Thank you, Hughes. I will see you this evening for dinner, Edward."

Ed waited until the door closed before making a rude gesture. "I hate him," she stated plainly.

Hughes offered a goofy grin. "I know the feeling," he agreed, standing up as well. "Well, this is one fine mess you've gotten yourself into this time, Ed. Dare I even ask how it happened?"

"Having a kid yourself, I was under the impression you knew what that entailed," Ed remarked with a scowl, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

He laughed, keeping a supportive and possibly restraining hand on Ed's back. Bastard. At least she knew why he and Mustang were friends now.

* * *

The doctor hadn't a single good thing to say to Ed.

She was too young, too thin, too small (this had nearly won him a smack to his stupid, ugly face), and too active. He wanted her to take off the automail, and she had refused. In return, she had to limit the amount of strenuous activity as much as possible, and eat more. Her blood pressure was lousy, which was part of what caused the headaches, and she wasn't allowed to bind her breasts anymore.

"'...and lie down on your left side for at least an hour every day,'" Ed quoted in a bad falsetto as they left the office, wrapped snuggly in Al's jacket. "Fuck. What am I going to do on my left side for an hour every goddamn day?"

"Sleep?" Hughes suggested helpfully, opening the car door for her. She glared at him.

"Read," Al suggested, shivering as he slid in the back next to her. "Or eat. He said you have to eat more too."

They were all good suggestions, but Ed was angry regardless. "Eat more, right," she scowled. "I _do_ eat, it just all comes back up. How am I supposed to fix that?"

"I can ask Gracia for her best tips, if you'd like," Hughes offered as he got into the front seat. "I know she had some sort of tea that really helped her with the nausea. I just can't remember what kind it was. Oh! That reminds me! I have about ten rolls of film you haven't seen yet!"

Ed leaned her head against Al's shoulder, feeling guilty for stealing his coat (even though he wouldn't let her give it back), feeling nauseated from the car ride, and feeling strangely nostalgic for a time and place where things were a little easier. Hughes, she knew, was just trying to help, but seeing pictures of his daughter were not going to distract her. Al seemed to understand a bit more, simply allowing her to lean up against his shoulder and not saying a word.

Mustang's house was-well, it was more aptly described as a palatial estate. It was huge, one of the perks to being the Fuhrer, Ed supposed, and meticulously cared for. The garden was neatly trimmed, although it was late in the fall and there would inevitably be snow here soon. The walkway was clear of leaves, there was a decorative fountain in the front, and a huge knocker on the front door shaped like a lion's head.

The Bastard certainly had _room_ for Ed and Al to stay.

The security at the door was a pair MPs Ed didn't recognize. They were allowed through the front door, even as Hughes excused himself and got back into his car. "The Fuhrer left dinner out for you, and your guest rooms are down the left hallway just out of the dining room," one of the MPs said. "You should find everything you need for you there. The Fuhrer offers his apologies that he won't be meeting you for dinner."

"Well, that's odd," Al commented, though his eyes were about as glittery as Ed's were as he took in the feast laid out before them on the dining room table. "He said he'd see us for dinner, I thought you said."

"He did say that," Ed responded, shrugging. "Guess he's busy."

_Or something happened_. Ed had a sneaking suspicion that the person Mustang had said he'd needed to talk with was Hawkeye, and that could be a big reason on why he was avoiding them.

Al didn't seem very convinced either. "Yeah, maybe."

After dinner, Al headed for his bedroom, but Ed hung around the dining room a moment longer. She wanted to talk to the Bastard-their conversation earlier had been ended prematurely, and there were a lot of things left to discuss. Besides-well, he might be a bastard of epic proportions, but she was a little worried.

She wandered through the house with the guise of trying to put away the dirty dishes, should some security MP find her and ask. She deposited the dishes in the kitchen only a moment later, and then took an alternative route back toward the guest rooms.

She found Mustang in what appeared to be a study. It was mostly dark in the room-Mustang had only lit one candle and left the electric lights turned out. He was sitting in a chair facing the unlit fireplace. In one hand, he had a bottle of some sort of alcohol and in the other, a picture frame. On the table next to the chair stood the candle, and next to the candle, Ed could see a diamond ring.

"I see you've decided to take the liberty of exploring the premise, Fullmetal," the Bastard said calmly, not even looking toward the doorway.

"I got lost," Ed stated derisively. "Your damn house is too big."

The Bastard didn't reply, which was as good a response as any that Ed should come in. So she did, pushing the door further open and marching inside as though she owned the place. She flipped on the light switch, and it became evident that she was in fact in a library of sorts. All the walls were lined with bookshelves, and there was a desk in the corner. Besides the chair Mustang was sitting in, there was a sofa, but that was it for the furniture in the room. The rug was thick and oriental, probably from Xing or one of its neighbors.

"You didn't have to tell her, you know," Ed stated softly, glancing at the ring.

Mustang sighed and put down the photograph-it was of him and Hawkeye, Ed could see then. Of course it was. This was just lovely.

"Edward, we had planned to get married. I couldn't keep this a secret from her. That isn't fair. It isn't fair to her, or to you." He paused for a moment then, looking thoughtful. "I've kept many things from her in the past. That's actually why we were arguing that night. It's not a basis for an intimate relationship. This isn't something I could just...hide. Not if I wanted the two of us to work out. Even if you hadn't gotten...pregnant, I would have had to tell her eventually, and the outcome would have been the same."

Ed let out a tiny sigh of relief-Mustang wasn't blaming her for this mess. She hadn't really expected him to, but at the same time, the thought had worried her more than she wanted to admit. Because, even after that afternoon, the Bastard _still_ meant more to her than she wanted to admit.

"What did the doctor have to say?" the Bastard asked, changing the subject in a way only a conniving bastard like him could manage to do.

Ed huffed and sat down on the edge of the leather sofa. "He said everything is great," she lied, not wanting to give yet another reason for the Bastard to feel sorry for himself. He wasn't acting drunk, but Ed could see that the bottle in his hand wasn't exactly full either.

The Bastard, however, had this covered. She really should have known. "That isn't what Hughes said on the phone," he commented.

She scowled. "Then why the hell are you asking me if you already know?" she demanded.

He just shrugged, and she considered throttling him. She'd have a head start-he was half drunk, after all, and he didn't have his gloves on. But then she decided she needed him around for at least the duration of her pregnancy, and that killing the Fuhrer probably wasn't a very good idea anyway.

"I'll head back to Rizenbul tomorrow," Ed stated then, because she didn't know what else to say. She didn't want to stay here a minute longer, not with the Bastard drinking himself into oblivion and breaking up with his woman because of Ed and this stupid baby. She felt like she was standing in the middle of a long corridor with Mustang on one side and happiness on the other, and unless she moved, he was never going to get there.

Gah, that was stupid. Stupid fucking bastard anyway. Why did she care if he was happy or not?

"I don't think it's in your best interests to travel in your condition," the Bastard replied. "Hughes said your blood pressure was high, and train rides won't alleviate that. Just the opposite, in fact. What you need is a little time to recover. To wind down. Relax."

Ed stared at him, at his stupid handsome face and his dark eyes, studying the corner of the room in some sort of vague thought. "Fuck that," she hissed. "What am I going to do, stay here? With _you_? How the hell is that going to make my blood pressure go _down_?"

"I've plenty of space, Edward, as I'm sure you've noticed," he replied simply. "I have a wonderful library here. We don't even have to see each other, if that's what you want."

"I don't _want_ to stay here!" she retorted, still scowling. "I don't need your fucking hospitality or your stupid doctor or all this bullshit. I just want to go-"

She broke off then, because the next word was supposed to be _home_. And she didn't have a home to go to, hadn't in five years, since she and Al had burned the old house in Rizenbul down. And yet, that was all she wanted, to do somewhere where she didn't have to rely on someone else, where she could sleep in a bed that was her own and not in someone's guest room. Where she could leave her shit lying around wherever she wanted because it was her space.

Most of all, she wanted something that not even her old home could give her if it was still standing: she wanted her mother back.

What would her mother think of all this? Ed expected she'd be simultaneously furious and thrilled, however that was possible. The Bastard certainly wouldn't be safe, and Ed would definitely hear about it for months and months to come...but at the same time, she'd be hugged and coddled whenever she needed to be.

For the first time in years, the idea of being coddled sounded oddly...nice.

"Edward?"

She blinked, looking back up the Bastard, who had finally turned his full attention to her. And then she realized that she'd never finished her sentence. "I-nowhere. Never mind. I just don't want to be here," she said quickly, fighting a wave of inexplicable tears. When was the last time she had cried over her mother?

Flustered suddenly by his intense look, she stood up. "I'm going to bed," she decided, heading for the door. This talk could wait. She _was_ leaving tomorrow, if she and Al had to walk to the damn train station. There was no way she was staying in the Bastard's house longer than she had to.

"Edward, wait a moment," the Bastard called, and Ed stopped, hand on the door handle. She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes. She didn't want to hear what he had to say, so why was she stopping?

"Look, I can't stay here. I'll go back to Rizenbul, and I swear I'll take it easy," she said without turning around.

"Edward, please listen to me," the Bastard replied. "I can see you're uncomfortable here, all right? I'll have a word with Hughes, maybe you can stay with him while you're here. But we really ought to talk about this, don't you think? We've barely established any sort of...plan."

"Plan? Fuck, no, I don't have a plan!" Ed retorted, whirling around. She saw he had put the bottle down and stood up, probably when she had started for the door. "What am I supposed to do, Mustang? I'm not even seventeen yet, I'm unemployed, I don't even have a real place to live! I don't have much of a choice, all right? You want to keep the kid, fine, but don't look at me!"

"That isn't what I meant. What about up until that point? Look-what you do with the child, that is your decision, but I-I have more than the means to support you, and that is my duty," the Bastard replied. Great, nice that he was all noble now that he knew he had fucked up. Now that Hawkeye had dumped him.

"How wonderfully convenient for you to feel this way now," Ed huffed. "Earlier today, you told me that I was being immature and clingy."

"Things have changed since then, Edward. I was unaware of the facts this noon when we first spoke," he responded, refusing to back down. "You know that. This has nothing to do with Riza and me, if that's what you're thinking. Regardless of what had happened between us, I would be offering this to you."

Ed huffed, turning away. Of course. Of fucking course he would. He sure as hell wasn't so good and noble the night of Hughes' party.

"Why?" she demanded, folding her arms over her chest and looking up at him through a shield of her hair.

The bastard blinked. "Why, what? Why am I helping you? Because-"

"No, asshole, why did you do it in the first place? Why did you-why did you pick me?" Ed demanded, gritting her teeth together as she glared up at him. "You could have any damn girl in the entire world, why did you have to pick me? What was it, did you want to fuck Hawkeye and she wouldn't let you, so you settled for the next blond thing you could find? Is that it?"

"Edward." There was a warning note in Mustang's voice.

"Or were you feeling old and had to prove to yourself that you could still do it with someone younger?" Ed pressed on, knowing she was pushing her luck and not giving a damn.

"Edward." Again. His voice was much lower this time, and his expression had turned stormy.

"Then why?"

_Tell me you're not attracted to me, tell it to my face, tell me, but tell me why you did this to me, you stupid fucking bastard. Tell me why you kissed me and pulled my clothes off piece by fucking piece and lead me to the desk and pushed me down and-_

"Why, goddamn it!"

And the Bastard just sat there and stared into the hearth of the dead fireplace, eyes dark and expression darker. He wouldn't even look at her. He wouldn't even fucking _look_ at her.

She had never hated him more than she did in this very moment.

"Why won't you _say_ something?" she demanded, her voice just short of an all out scream. She wanted to pick something up and throw it at the Bastard, wanted to transmute him to the wall, wanted to punch him in the goddamn face until he bled, until he was hurting just the way that she was.

And the Bastard _still_ wouldn't say anything! He just stood there, looking for all the world like he had a two ton weight on his shoulders, his eyes narrowed and hard, his face impassive. She didn't understand how he could just shut down like that, how he could turn off his feelings and ignore something like this. And she hated him for it.

She let out a cry of frustration, and she realized with some horror that there were tears streaming down her face. "Go to hell!" she shouted as loudly as she could, and she yanked the door open and fled the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Fullmetal Alchemist 2 : Motherhood - Chapter 3  
**Series:** Fullmetal Alchemist (first anime)  
**Pairings:** eventual Roy/girl!Ed (someday, maybe)  
**Warnings:** Genderswap, mostly. Some transgender things, pregnancy, etc. Adult themes, I guess, but nothing explicit.  
**Summary: **Roy gets Ed in trouble, and thus starts the longest nine months in either of their lives. First anime based, post series, AU. And Hughes, because I like Hughes.

* * *

Fuhrer President Roy Mustang was generally considered an intelligent man. Up until the Fullmetal Alchemist had passed the state alchemist exam at the age of twelve, Mustang had been the third youngest alchemist ever to achieve the title. He had used his position in Ishbal to climb the ranks, along with his political knowledge and suave people skills. He had been the youngest person ever to reach the rank of colonel, and he was not content with that. At the time when he reached the title of Fuhrer, he was exactly half the age of his predecessor.

He had achieved a lot of things in his thirty years, and he hoped to accomplish a lot more before he died.

But the situation he was currently mired in, a situation that he could not logically blame anyone for but himself, was definitely not one of the smarter things he had managed.

Maes picked up his phone on the third ring, sounding groggy. Well, no wonder. It was late, but Roy was too keyed up to really care. This was shaping up to be what was possibly the worst day in the life of one Roy Mustang, and that included that fateful battle with King Bradley.

"Don't hang up, Maes, I'm a suicide risk," Roy gritted into the mouthpiece of the phone.

"Yeah, I'll bet you are," Maes grunted back. "Why the hell are you calling so late? I was about to go to bed. Can't you call during the day like a normal person?"

"Riza dumped me."

"Good for her."

Roy went silent then, the truth of the matter sinking in on him fully. He didn't know what he had been expecting, honestly. Telling your fiancée that you have a child coming with another woman was hardly something that could be smoothed over easily. Riza was the most forgiving woman Roy had ever known, but even she couldn't put up with this sort of behavior. And how could he ask that of her?

Maes sighed heavily on the other end of the line. "Roy, come on now, what on earth possessed you to sleep with Edward Elric?" he asked.

What, indeed. There were a million reasons, Roy reasoned to himself, and yet, none of them was enough to justify his behavior. None of them were enough to stand up to explain himself. Even together, even under the influence of too much liquor, he couldn't even begin to explain.

"I was drunk," he finally said lamely.

"She's _sixteen_," Maes reminded him.

"Yes, thank you, Maes, I had forgotten that," Roy growled. "So now that my personal life is in tatters and I have made two women cry today-which is something I have not done since I was twelve-why don't you just finish rubbing it in by mocking the size of my dick or something?"

"Well, at least you know it's working properly," the other man mused.

Not for the first time, Roy wondered about the range of his alchemy and if he could blow up the Hughes household without leaving his den.

"So, you made Ed cry too, did you?" Maes continued nonchalantly, as though he didn't know Roy was rooting around through his desk for one of his gloves. "Do I need to come and collect them, or are you still sleeping with a pistol underneath your pillow?"

"I wouldn't worry," Roy murmured. "They've transmuted the door shut with a big sign that says, 'All Bastards Stay the Fuck Out.'"

Maes let out a low whistle. "Apparently, you're not invited. Though I suppose if you wanted to be technical, there's already one bastard in-"

"Do not finish that sentence, Hughes. I know where you sleep."

Maes laughed, and Roy concentrated on starting the other end of the line on fire. As usual, it didn't work. He should have chosen electricity as his element. That, at least, was transferable over a telephone line. It'd take a bit of extra work, but he'd have mastered the art of shocking Maes long ago if only he was the Lightning Alchemist.

Maes let out a long yawn. "On the subject of sleeping, am I allowed to go to bed now?"

"No. You haven't made me feel better yet." Roy leaned his head down and rested his cheek against the cool mahogany of his desk, balancing the phone on the other side of his face and closing his eyes.

"You've given me little reason I should be cheering you up, buddy," Maes replied, which, you know, didn't help that whole guilt complex thing. "You're really on your own with this."

"I am going to drink myself into a coma," Roy stated. "Is that a good reason to cheer me up?"

"I am entirely unsympathetic, Roy," Maes said coolly.

"I know I messed up! I know. I got drunk, I lost my judgment, and I had sex with a sixteen year old girl. I know I was stupid, Maes! Everything I've gotten, I've deserved. I know that. I really do. I just-I don't know what to do. I've lost the woman I love, and now I'm going to be a-a daddy, Maes."

Maes let out a tiny sigh. "All right, so what you need is a plan of action," he finally said. "Something to...distract you or something. Well, you've got a lot of shit to be fixing up, Mustang. Let's start at the beginning. Riza is probably going to shoot you when you go into work tomorrow. What are you going to do about that?"

"Kevlar," Roy replied automatically.

"For her? That's not half bad thinking, Roy, but I think she's past the point where gifts are going to mollify her," Maes supplied helpfully. "I'd stick with flowers myself anyway, though Riza doesn't really seem like the flower type."

"She's not," Roy answered, staring at the mug containing a number of pens he kept on his desk. He studied the cracks in the ceramic, the shadow it cast on the mahogany for lack of something better to look at. "She hasn't shot me yet, so I think I'm safe. Besides, I tend to think her revenge is going to be more subtle. Thumbtacks in my desk chair. Extra paperwork. Delegates from Xing. Phone conference with Briggs. That sort of thing."

"Cruel, but livable. At least you still have Roy Jr." Maes considered this for a moment. "For now."

"I apologized," Roy protested feebly.

"Roy, you cheated on her with a sixteen year old with gender identity issues," the older man pointed out. "She's probably questioning your sexuality right now on top of everything else. In fact, I kind of am too, come to think of it."

Roy pouted liberally. "I didn't sleep with Ed when I thought she was a boy," he returned. It was a very weak argument, a fact of which he was well aware. The problem was that all of his arguments lately were pretty weak, even to his own ears. "Besides, I didn't exactly tell Riza _who_ I cheated with."

"'Exactly'? And Roy, _Ed_ still thinks she's a boy," Maes retorted.

Roy finally lifted his head from his desktop, leaning back in his chair and taking the phone with him. He stared up at the ceiling instead, at the decorative texture there. "It isn't about whether she's male or female, Maes, not with her," he finally said softly. "It never has been."

The other end of the line went silent for a moment so long that Roy wondered if they'd been disconnected. "Roy Mustang, you're actually _attracted _to her, aren't you?" Maes finally said.

"What do you think I am?" Roy demanded, suddenly angry. "Of course I am! I wouldn't have-I wouldn't be _in_ this situation if I wasn't attracted to her! I wouldn't just fuck the next thing that was standing still because I was having a spat with Riza!"

"Oh, Roy. Oh, _Roy_."

"Don't even think it. It isn't logical at all. I was her commanding officer, I'm nearly twice her age, she was a boy, and she hates me anyway. There is absolutely no good reason to pursue it and a million good reasons not to. Can you imagine what this will mean for me if it gets out? 'Fuhrer impregnates Fullmetal Alchemist, sixteen year old and former _man_'?"

"I don't know, your loyal followers might think it's cute. Scandalous, sure, but cute. But Roy, you're missing something here," Maes put in.

"What am I missing?"

"She said yes," Maes said quietly.

Roy went silent then, pondering Maes' words. Of course she'd said yes, but she had been drinking, and so on and so forth. But then, so had he. And Ed hadn't had enough that she hadn't been participating either. She had hit him that night-twice, if he remembered correctly. Hell if that didn't mean she was capable of saying no. Maes was right, she _had_ said yes.

"Th-that doesn't mean anything," Roy put in suddenly, shaking his head. "She wasn't thinking any straighter than I was. Why are you even encouraging this? If Riza didn't remove my balls, then _Ed_ definitely would if I ever pursued this."

"Maybe I'm just looking out for you, buddy," Maes replied thoughtfully. "Think about it. Permanent birth control. Without balls, you definitely wouldn't be in this situation again."

"You are no help whatsoever," Roy growled. "I don't know why I even talk to you."

"Me neither, honestly. Can I go to bed now?"

* * *

_earlier that day_

He found Riza in the courtyard, bustling back toward the offices and still carrying the two bags of carry out. Her face had been an expression of passive annoyance up until she saw him, and then she broke into a wide smile. "Ah, sir. I'm glad you met me out here. We still have some time for lunch," she said pleasantly.

Roy felt his heart sink to his knees as he took the bag with his lunch in it from her. She motioned him over to a bench situated under an old oak tree, and he followed her obediently. He wasn't hungry at all. She told him about bringing Alphonse around the new section of HQ they had put in only months before, and how the boy had told her about what was going on in Rizenbul and the like, and he pretended to listen, unwrapping his meal and staring at it. He couldn't concentrate on what she was saying.

When she was finished speaking, Roy had yet to take a bite of his sandwich. His head was spinning, his stomach churning. He was going to be a father. A _father_. And here he was, sitting next to his goddamn _fiancée_, and he had to tell her.

He was about to lose the best thing he'd ever had, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

"Do you remember that fight we had a couple of months ago?" he finally asked quietly, staring across the courtyard, at the changing colors of the leaves across the opening. "Right before Hughes' party."

"...we said we weren't going to talk about that any longer," she replied.

"We also said we weren't going to hide things from each other any longer," he continued, still unable to look at her. "And there's something I've been hiding." He was leaned forward on the bench, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes focused on nothing. "Riza, I cheated on you."

Her silence wasn't unexpected. He listened to her wrap up what was left of her own sandwich and put it back in the bag carefully. He listened to her shift her position on the bench. He listened to the sound of her breathing, which had always been so soothing before.

"When?" she asked, and her voice was the stiff, formal one she used in the office.

"While we were separated," he answered, as though that would make any difference. "It was a one time thing, and I don't live a day when I don't regret it. It made me rethink everything, rethink what's important to me, and that's why I proposed. Because I could finally see what I needed to do."

It was true. Those days after the party, after the hangover went away and he had to deal with the fact that he had probably just deflowered his youngest ex-subordinate for no good reason, he had rethought his whole life. Ed was never going to forgive him for what had happened, but Riza...Riza would. Riza, beautiful Riza who had nursed him back to health after his battle with the homunculus known as Pride, who had stayed with him through Ishbal, past Ishbal. Riza, who had always been there for him, and he couldn't imagine life without her. He had bought the ring the next day.

And still, he hadn't been able to bring himself to tell her. Despite their newfound policy of sharing everything, Roy still couldn't make himself tell her.

The silence was overwhelming suddenly, and he began wrapping up his sandwich. It was something to do with his hands, something he badly needed, and hell, it wasn't as though he was going to eat it anyway.

"Why didn't you tell me about this then?" she asked.

"I couldn't," he answered, his throat dry. "I came so close to losing you then, and I couldn't do it. I know, I know, we said we weren't going to keep secrets anymore, but I couldn't tell you."

There was another silence. Roy put his sandwich aside and ran his fingers through his hair. God, what he wouldn't do for a whiskey right then.

"What changed?" she asked quietly.

He took a deep breath. "The girl I slept with is pregnant," he answered, and found he couldn't even look up at her. He couldn't bear to see the betrayal in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm...I'm so, so sorry, Riza."

He thought she might be sympathetic. He also thought that she might slap him. It was hard to tell with her sometimes, and in the end, she did neither. She simply sat very still for a long moment, so long that if Roy hadn't been aware of her presence through his peripheral vision, he wouldn't have been sure if she was even there. A breeze through the courtyard stole the sound of her breath, and she didn't move for the moment.

"Someone once told me that the truth will set you free," she finally murmured, and he finally looked at her. She was sitting straight backed against the back of the bench, her hands on the bench on either side of her, her gaze turned upwards. There was a tear on her cheek, one single tear. "But I think...I think I would have been much happier if you'd never told me that at all."

She stood up then, and she moved her hands together, removing the diamond from her fourth finger, the one that Roy had spent nearly two hours picking out because he wanted it to be perfect for her. And then she held it out to him. "I guess you're free, at least. You're free to go sleep with whomever you wish," she said.

Roy did not take the ring. "Riza, I don't want-"

"You _do_ want, Roy, or you wouldn't have." Her chin was trembling, and her eyes were narrowed and filled with hurt and anger. Her voice was level, but it had a fine tremble in it. "Take the ring before I throw it at you."

"Riza, please, can't we talk about this?" He was offering a plaintive look, a broken, sorrowful expression as he tried to bare his very soul to her and let her know just how sorry he was.

"We _are_ talking!" she snapped back, her hands trembling and her voice cracking. There were more tears now, and Roy felt very ill. "You-you are-I can't _believe _you! What is it-what did-never mind, take the ring!"

"Riza-"

"Just take it!"

It was over. Just like that. One moment of weakness, one moment of drunken misjudgment, and it was over. They'd had their fair share of problems in the past, but it had never accumulated to this. Riza wasn't going to give him a second chance this time. It was done, and she was about to walk out of his life forever, and he was supposed to just accept that.

But there were some things no one could change, things that no matter what he did, he couldn't fix. He couldn't turn back time and stop himself from sleeping with Ed. He couldn't make Ed not pregnant, he couldn't make Riza forgive him for hurting her so badly.

He could only pick up the pieces of what he had left and move forward. And so he took the ring from her outstretched hand.

She turned her back on him then, making to walk away, and it felt so _wrong_ just to let her go. He stood up before he could convince himself that interfering now was a bad idea, and he took one step forward before stopping. "I love you," he called after her, because he couldn't bear for her to think otherwise.

And she glanced briefly over her shoulder without stopping or even slowing down.

"I wish I could believe you," she said.

* * *

The only safe place on base was probably the mess hall, Ed concluded, standing in the four-way junction of the hallway that would either lead her to relative safety or further into hell, depending on which way she turned. Two of the hallways were safe-she could turn back and march right out of the building, or she could turn to her left and head down toward the mess hall, where they wouldn't feed her anyway because she technically wasn't military anymore.

If she went straight, she would soon be saturated in the physical manifestation of annoyance and depression seeping out of the Fuhrer's office. And the wave of ire emanating from the right hand hallway, where Colonel Hawkeye's office resided, seemed like a sheer repelling force.

Ed rubbed the bridge of her nose with two metal fingers, trying to massage away the last vestiges of the migraine that had plagued her all night after the shouting match with the Bastard. "Why are we here again?" she asked.

"Because you decided that the Fuhrer should pay for our train tickets and our ride to the station," Al answered helpfully from her side.

"And he should!" Ed declared firmly. "It's his fault we're here anyway."

She went to take a step forward, down that straight hallway, where The Very Last Person On Earth She Wanted To See Except For Maybe Hawkeye was sitting in his office and probably thinking up new and even more inventive ways to fuck up his own life and possibly Ed's at the same time. And then she paused, glancing around the junction as an edge of uneasy trepidation curled through her stomach.

"But first, I'm going to go throw up," she declared. She spotted the nearest bathroom and took a step toward it, but stopped immediately when she realized that it was down the hallway to the right. She wondered if she should just throw up here on the floor, if that wouldn't just be better, but then the Colonel would be more likely to notice, and it wasn't as though she had a choice anymore anyway, because Al had grabbed her shoulders and was forcibly pushing her toward the restrooms about halfway down the hallway. Al really hated puke.

That was also the reason why, even though Ed went into the men's room, her brother didn't follow her in. And he really had done more than his fair share of hair holding in the past few weeks. Ed didn't blame him, not at all.

When she was finished, her stomach hurt and she had heartburn bad enough that it was probably raising her body temperature a few degrees. Morning sickness _indeed_; it was nearly half past two in the afternoon. Groaning, she flushed the john, wiped the cold sweat from her brow, and used the side of the stall to stand up. She felt cold and shaky, on top of a heightened sense of dizziness. And the headache was coming back. Perfect. Really.

She made an irate noise as she exited the bathroom. "I don't know _who_ came up with the name 'morning sickness,' because they've obviously never..."

What she saw on the other side of the door made her stop dead in her tracks.

Al was no longer alone waiting for his sister. Instead, he was face to face with Colonel Hawkeye, and they had apparently been chatting somewhat amicably until Ed had opened the door and interrupted with what was bound to be a very sore topic. What was worse was the look Hawkeye got on her face as she realized what Ed had just said. Her eyes got wide and her mouth opened just a touch-a look Ed had never seen Hawkeye wear before in her entire life.

"You?" Hawkeye said quietly, considering Ed with a look of disbelief. "You're the one he cheated with?"

Ed's belly tightened as she realized that the Bastard had found no reason to tell Hawkeye _whom_ he had cheated with, and that Ed probably would be happily not on death row right now if she hadn't had such a fucking big mouth.

A thousand things came to mind to say, things like, _I didn't know you were dating_, and _I'm so sorry_, and _Believe me, it will never fucking happen again,_ and _If it makes you feel any better, this headache is about to make me smash my face into the wall repeatedly until I pass out_. Instead, she stood very still. She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't find it in her to actually say anything.

"Why you?" Hawkeye demanded, glaring at Ed with such ferocity that she stepped back until her back was against the closed bathroom door. "You-you're sixteen! You just came out of the _men's bathroom_! You can't even admit that you're a woman!"

And this, coming from Hawkeye, Hawkeye who had never batted an eye concerning Ed's gender issues before, Hawkeye who had always wordlessly supported Ed, _especially_ after she found out Ed's secret, Hawkeye whom Ed had always trusted the most in understanding her identity, was somehow exponentially worse than any of the lecherous comments she had received from everyone else. Her stomach twisted again, painfully, and her headache increased tenfold. She felt as though she had been slapped.

And then Al stepped between them, sweet, wonderful Al who was currently her personal lord and savior, and said in a low voice that was very much not like Al, "I think you had better leave my brother alone now, Colonel."

For a moment, it looked like Hawkeye was going to challenge Al. She glared at him, but Al didn't even flinch. He didn't move, he simply stood there, an impenetrable force between Ed and Hell's Fury. And then the Colonel turned on her heel and stalked off toward her office once again, the severe _click-clack_ of her boots fading as she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

Ed sighed in relief and sank down into a sitting position. She rested her forehead against her knees, trying to fight the blinding headache that was throbbing between her temples as well as the tears that were threatening to fall.

"Brother?" Al was kneeling down beside her, touching her shoulder gently.

"Thanks, Al, that was really brave," Ed responded, mustering up a small smile for her brother. She swiped at her eyes with her left hand. "I'm going to start the I-Hate-Mustang fan club, and I'm going to invite Hawkeye to join. Maybe then she'll forgive me."

Al laughed, a little nervously. "I thought she was going to eat me," he admitted.

"I did too," she replied, and then frowned. She was suddenly aware of a strange sensation, one that wasn't unfamiliar but one that she associated with getting her period and therefore shouldn't be feeling. A warmth between her legs, a slickness indicating something wet...and then the realization dawned on her. "Al, I think I'm bleeding."

Al was giving her a skeptical look, one that faded into some concern and confusion. "Bleeding? I don't see any blood. She didn't even touch you," he stated.

"No, no, I mean...from down _there_," Ed responded, her voice terse as she gestured vaguely toward her nether regions, causing Al to blush. "There's something wrong, Al."

Al's eyes grew wide as he realized exactly what she was saying. "Uh...what does that mean? What should I do?"

"I don't know," Ed murmured, worrying her lower lip. She was suddenly and inexplicably terrified. "I think I need to go see a doctor."

* * *

The problem with large buildings packed with a number of people with closely entwined jobs and a little bit too much time to talk amongst themselves was the problem of gossip. Central Headquarters was probably the biggest rumor mill in Amestris, especially amid the lives of the higher ranking officials or the people that everyone just knew. The Fuhrer could sneeze, and before his secretary finished saying, "Bless you," there would be thirty seven lance corporals in the dormitories talking about how Mustang had a cold.

Roy had found, during his climb up the political ladder, that there were oftentimes things going on in his life that everyone else knew but Roy himself was clueless about. He had once been promised the hand of a Xingese princess and offered a co-rulership of the eastern nation, and he had been the last person on base to find out about it (though he suspected the supposed Xingese princess was probably as unaware of the proposal as he had been).

So when the end of the day finally rolled around and his secretary asked him as he left his office if he had heard that the Fullmetal Alchemist was pregnant, he figured everyone in the building had probably known about it before he had. He had shrugged, however, like he always did, and said something like, "I wouldn't believe everything I heard around here," to save face.

He wondered if Ed would somehow hold him accountable for this.

He wondered how long it would be before Riza heard these rumors.

All in all, he figured he probably had about fifteen minutes to live.

He walked slowly down the hallway. He would miss his office, he decided. Well, he'd miss his secretary. Okay, he'd miss her legs. He'd miss that big picture window in the back of the office, yes. And the nice, soft carpet. It was the little things in life. A glass of wine, while sitting in front of the fireplace. Marshmallows. Hell certainly had no marshmallows, which was actually all right, because there was nothing worse than burnt marshmallows.

Maes intercepted him halfway to the front entrance of the building, where he fully expected a sniper rifle to be aimed at his head or possibly his balls. If not, certainly a giant fist made of rock would erupt from the pavement beneath him and unman him that way.

How had he managed to do this to two of the most dangerous women on the planet?

"I want white roses at my funeral," he stated calmly as Maes joined him.

Maes lifted one eyebrow, falling into step beside his friend. "Is there any special reason you're planning your funeral today, or is it just in general?" he asked. He turned a corner that didn't go to the front of the building, despite the fact that it was five o'clock and time to go home. Roy followed him out of morbid curiosity, and possibly a little self-preservation-he did not want to walk out the front door.

"Certain circumstances seem to have been aggravated," Roy responded with a slight shrug. "Everyone in the building seems to know about Ed's dilemma. Where are we going?"

"Medical wing," Maes responded, and Roy noted for the first time just how odd it was for Maes to be not smiling and joking with him. "I assume no one's bothered to tell you what happened?"

Roy's countenance darkened considerably. "Obviously."

"Ed is ill," Maes said softly. "She and Al came to see you for something, as I understand it, but they never made it all the way to your office. She's having some problems with bleeding, I guess. The doctor put her in bed, gave her an IV, and took away her automail. She's angry as hell, but she's okay."

Roy's breath caught in his throat. Ed was here today, god only knew how long, and she'd been ill. If someone had bothered letting him know, he would have come to see her, or something. Granted, his presence might prove detrimental to her condition, if it was due to stress, as Roy somewhat expected, but he somehow felt responsible for her. It was his doing that had her in this condition in the first place, and, despite her bluster and determination to go through it without him; he was fully prepared to take responsibility.

"The baby?" he asked softly, finding he wasn't really able to look Maes in the face.

"The baby's okay too," Maes assured him, and he honestly wasn't sure whether or not to be glad. The thought was unintentional, but it still meant something, and Roy mentally kicked himself. That was no way to be thinking.

The nurse recognized Roy immediately and allowed him in without question. Ed seemed to be the day's only patient, and it didn't take long to get to her room. And there she was, laid up without her automail, her hair loose on the pillow, and an IV line in her left arm. She looked even smaller than normal without her artificial limbs, and Roy felt even more like a pedophile than he had when he had woken up the morning after the fact.

Al was sitting on one side of the bed, which Roy had expected. What he did not expect was for Riza to be sitting on the other side of the bed. Everyone looked up in perfect unison when Roy and Maes walked in, and Roy felt distinctly uncomfortable suddenly.

Riza said something quietly to Ed (_surely Riza had figured it out by now, hadn't she?_) before standing up. She saluted curtly to him and did not wait for him to acknowledge her before stiffly marching out of the door.

Riza Hawkeye was breaking protocol to avoid him. This was very bad.

He watched her go without really meaning to, watching the sway of her hips that had always enthralled him so. He missed her so much that it ached, and her forced civility to him in public as it was made him cringe. He had half a mind to go to the bar tonight and drink himself into oblivion.

Maes broke the tension by taking Riza's vacated seat, smiling widely at the Elric siblings. "Hey, how you feeling?" he asked cheerfully, patting Ed's hand.

She glared at him. "They took my automail away," she retorted, her voice sounding dangerously close to a pout. "I can't get out of bed, I can't even sit the fuck up, and I can't go home. On top of that, I'm nauseated, I have heartburn so bad that it's radiating out of my kneecaps, and my head feels like it's going to explode. How do you _think_ I feel?"

"I'm guessing fairly miserable," Maes continued, still as cheerful as anything. Ed scowled, and Roy really could relate to that expression. "When are they letting you leave?"

"Dunno yet," Ed replied miserably. The anger that had been tinting her voice earlier had faded somewhat, and now she just sounded depressed. "They want to do this observation shit or something, I don't know."

Alphonse shifted in his seat, reaching over and touching a lock of his sister's hair, loose on the pillow. Roy had noticed that Al seemed to need physical reassurance much more now that he could actually get it. It was like he was making up for all those years trapped in a suit of armor.

"Brother has been under a lot of stress lately," Al said plaintively. "Her headaches are because her blood pressure is too high, and today she started bleeding. That among other factors-" (her size, Roy was guessing, from the way Al specifically did not say it) "-had the doctor worried, so he wants to keep her here, overnight at least."

Roy felt suddenly like he didn't belong in this room at all. He was being ignored in the worst way-once Riza had left, no one else was even acknowledging him. No one had told him that Ed was sick at all until Maes had intercepted him. And yet, everything going on in this entire room was his fault. Ed wouldn't be confined to a bed, down two limbs and sporting an IV if Roy had been able to keep his pants on.

Yeah, that guilt complex wasn't going away any time soon.

"May I have a word?" he said suddenly, looking intently at Ed.

Everyone looked over at him in perfect unison, blinking as though they hadn't realized he was here. It might have been nice not to be noticed, if the circumstances had been different-Roy didn't go unnoticed very often, now that he was arguably the most famous man in Amestris. (Because Ed couldn't rightly hold that title any longer.)

"Sure, buddy," Maes said, gesturing to Al and giving Roy a look that clearly stated, 'I hope you know what you're doing.' Roy hoped he remembered his request for the white roses; he might need them soon.

Al, however, looked very loath to leave his sister alone. Roy had never been on the receiving end of Alphonse's overprotective rage before, but he'd received nothing but a stony silence from the boy since the two of them had arrived in Central. He most certainly remembered the shouting match of the evening previous, and if something was wrong with Ed _because_ of that, well, he had no delusions that he was anything but screwed.

But within a few minutes, everyone else had filtered out of the room, leaving Roy standing awkwardly by the door and Ed glaring half-heartedly at him. He crossed the room over to the bedside, but he did not sit down. He didn't want to get comfortable. Not just yet.

"What happened?" he finally asked, seeing that Ed wasn't about to start up the conversation.

She half-shrugged, not really looking at him. "I ran into Colonel Hawkeye in the hall, and, since someone didn't bother explaining everything to her, she had to find out the hard way what had happened," she muttered darkly. "So then she bitched me out for a while, and then I started bleeding, and now I'm here."

Roy ran a hand over his face. Lovely. Just lovely. No matter what angle you took from this, every single thing going on in Ed's life, every single little bit of stress that had put her here in the first place was directly the cause of one Roy Mustang.

How could he even begin to apologize to her? How the hell could he save face through all of this?

"She came in to apologize," Ed continued, breaking Roy out of his train of thought. "Colonel Hawkeye, I mean. That's what she was doing here when you two came. She said she had overreacted and she took it out on me when it wasn't really my fault, and..."

"I'm sorry," Roy heard himself say. He hadn't meant to say it, hadn't told himself to say it, but the words had just come out of his mouth on their own. And with Ed, what did it matter, anyway? He _was _sorry, and she deserved to hear it. It was just them, just Roy and Ed, and Roy didn't have to worry about saving face here. He was pretty sure he'd already lost all her respect anyway. "I should have told her it was you."

"It doesn't matter." Ed still wouldn't look at him. "She knows now, and everyone on base knows I'm knocked up because Al was practically screaming it down the hallway, so tomorrow it'll be in the papers..."

The look on Ed's face was not one Roy ever wanted to see there. Her jaw was set and her eyes determined, but she was trembling. She was mortified, she was ill, and she wanted nothing to do with the publicity this was going to give her. She was, Roy guessed, on the verge of tears.

It wasn't fair. All Roy wanted to do was help her, but everything he did just made things worse. He sat down in the chair, finally, and tried to think. What could he do to fix this? Was there a way? He rubbed his hand down his jaw line, considering his options.

Ed was trying to make it easy for him, he recognized that. She swore up and down that no one had to know, that she wouldn't identify the father, that the only reason she had come to Central in the first place was because she figured he should know. Roy could walk out of this hospital room and never turn back. He could leave this all behind him, send Ed money or something for her medical expenses, and be done with it.

But Roy wasn't that kind of a man. And he wouldn't leave Ed to shoulder all the responsibility for this.

"Do you want to...er, get married?" he asked rather suddenly, frowning intently.

Silence. Then, "What?"

"Married. You and I. No one knew about Riza. We could say we'd been secretly engaged for a while." Roy was making this up as he went, but it seemed plausible. Sort of. "Because of your age, or my standing, or something. I don't know. We could make it work. Then the media would shut up, and you'd-"

"No. No. God, stop it. I am not marrying you." Ed looked annoyed now, clenching her hand in the sheets and glaring at him. "Fuck, no. Just shut up."

Roy was, admittedly, relieved. It was a sacrifice he would have made for Ed, and willingly, but that didn't mean he necessarily _wanted _to. But still, he couldn't just sit here and allow her to take all the flack for this. What could he do? What could he say?

"At least allow me to tell them the baby's mine, then," he offered.

Ed turned her angry golden eyes toward him, a frown on her face. "Why are you so fucking determined to take the fall for this?" she demanded. "I'm trying to give you an out here. Look. Let the media jump all over it for a while, whatever, I don't give a fuck. I'll go back to Rizenbul and no one will care-"

"But you can't go back there, not yet," Roy reminded her carefully. "Listen, this isn't going to continue. Traveling by train, for one, is way too public right now. Besides, the doctor isn't going to let you on a train until you're fully recovered. I know you're angry at me right now and I don't blame you. But they'll never see you in my house, and you only have to stay until you're feeling better..."

"_No._ Fuck. I hate you right now, okay, Mustang? I don't want to be within eighty feet of you, and the only reason I'm not moving is because this fucking baby is going to die if I get out of this bed or something," she spat vehemently. "You don't even understand. You can't even _begin _to understand what's going on in my head right now, you can't make things better, so you might as well just walk the other fucking direction."

Roy grated his teeth together, trying very hard not to get angry at Ed. She was simply doing what she always did when she was faced with something she didn't know how to control, right? She was only lashing out at him because she was afraid, right? That didn't make it any easier for Roy to deal with her.

"That," he said lowly, "is enough, Fullmetal. I am fully aware of the situation-"

"Oh, shut the hell up, you don't even-"

"-and I'm aware of the fact that you are acting like a spoiled ten year old. _Listen to me._ That baby is mine, and while I might not be able to take care of you, let me take care of my child. Please."

Ed's face was set, and she was glaring at the wall next to the door as a way of not looking Roy in the eye. "If I say yes, will you leave me the fuck alone?" she demanded, her voice trembling slightly. She sounded once again on the verge of tears, and Roy wasn't sure why.

He stood up, swallowing slightly. He shouldn't feel badly about coercing Ed into staying with him, but he did. Somehow, she'd made him feel guilty for doing the best he could to support her. But then, she'd never been one to accept support gracefully, had she?

"I'm going, thank you," he said quietly. It wasn't easy; he wanted to stay there and take care of her and protect her, but that wasn't something she was willing to let him do. The best thing he could do right now, he told himself, was to get up and walk away. That was what she wanted. She'd agreed to stay, so long as he left her alone.

If that was the best way to take care of her, then so be it.

She didn't say anything as he walked toward the door. She didn't say anything when he put his hand on the knob and turned, and she didn't say anything when he walked out of the room.

He didn't expect her to, but it would have been nice anyway.

How long had he taken care of her? How long had he tried to guide her on the right path, tried to keep the bad stuff from happening, tried to earn her trust and keep it? How long had he protected her? It was who he was; it was his nature, his identity. He looked out for his own, and Ed was one of his own. Yes, he'd messed up. Yes, he had betrayed Ed's trust and wellbeing. But damn if that was going to stop him.

He turned around before he shut the door, and he looked inside the room. Ed was glaring at the wall, her nose sticking almost snootily in the air as she put on her best display of defiance. It wasn't hard to see that she was scared and hurting, not when you had known her as long as Roy had.

"I've taken care of you since the day I met you," he said quietly, "and I'm not going to quit now. You can count on that."

She turned to look at him, somewhat startled. Gold eyes were wide and surprised, but she quickly stuffed the emotion down in order to glare at him once more. "I can also count on you being an asshole, I guess."

Roy gave her his best smile, and he shut the door behind him.

_She hadn't said no._

* * *

**A/N:** I wrote an 'omake' for this chapter as well, and I posted it at my livejournal, along with a sketch of girl!Ed. If you're interested, you can check it out: faereinfer (dot) livejournal (dot) com (slash) 54312 (dot) html. Sorry for the weird formatting. This website hates me and all of my formatting, I think. :[


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